


love is stored in the dad

by shrack



Category: Dungeons and Daddies (Podcast)
Genre: Gratuitous Square Dancing, M/M, Multi, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-07-28 09:51:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20062078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shrack/pseuds/shrack
Summary: Two of the dads come to some pretty shocking revelations about each other and themselves. Darryl figures things out and makes a move, Henry gains a new hat and a new emotion, Glenn is there, and Ron helps.





	love is stored in the dad

**Author's Note:**

> i want to make matt arnold regret the day he said that darryl attended square dancing lessons.
> 
> also, an edit for those new folks reading: this was written during the time when it was implied that carol was cheating on darryl, so i didnt like her very much. i have since learned the error in my ways, and fully support the two of them having an amicable future together (well, separately). sorry carol!!

Darryl thinks, as he watches the road (if it can even be called that) through the windshield of the Honda Odyssey, that maybe he's missed some things in life because of Carol. That love... _ shouldn’t  _ be hard all the time, like Henry had said. Now, don't get him wrong, there's a huge part of him that is thankful for her—she taught him to love, blessed him with fatherhood, other things that he totally remembers if asked. But looking at the other dads, even Ron, he can't help but feel like he's missed out.

The adventure, though, is filling some of those holes.

Driving all around this other realm of the universe, fighting bad guys, discovering powers he didn't know he had, rescuing their children (albeit poorly), the group of dads he's with slowly becoming the best friends he's got? Yeah, Darryl thinks as he turns his blinker on to make a left down a fork in the "road", maybe he's making up for it now, and it just took forty-some odd years to get there.

_ I mean, really,  _ he thinks, a small smile on his face,  _ how many people can say their friend turned into a bear? _

Instinctually, Darryl glances in the rearview mirror to spot Henry in the back, who has his head leaned on his hand, sleepily watching Glenn and Ron debate something that Darryl was not  _ remotely  _ interested in. Henry notices Darryl and looks to catch his eye in the mirror, offering a small, lazy smile at him. Darryl mirrors it, and looks away before he can process the pleasant fluttering in his chest.

Now that,  _ that  _ is something that Darryl missed out on. Being with Carol the majority of his life left no room for...exploration, or self-discovery, really. Even when the two were broken up, Carol always seemed to have this  _ hold  _ on Darryl, something that he understands now was horribly manipulative. Love isn’t supposed to be hard, but for Carol, Darryl had to change himself to her will. Hide his Chews, don’t mention the square dancing lessons, put up with Darnell, and now that he really thinks about it—change his major in college, go to the same school that Carol wants to go to. No experimentation in college that his father insisted was just "par for the course". Although…

There was that one time, at that party during his sophomore year. Carol was next to him, of course, and the game of truth or dare was ramping up to pretty big extremes. Darryl was only tipsy, really, but felt bold—so, dare. One of the girls, Carol's friend, if he remembered right, looked around the circle until her eyes landed on her target and a sly smile spread across her face.

"I dare you to spend seven minutes in heaven with  _ Brandon. _ "

Brandon was  _ very  _ attractive, Darryl remembers thinking, as the man in question rose from his seat in the circle. Thin, muscular, confident in his body in all the ways that Darryl wasn't. The first thirty seconds in the closet were awkward, but Brandon had made the first move, two hands holding Darryl's face to kiss him, fast, hungrily,  _ drunk, _ and Darryl thanked God that he set the timer on his watch.

While he never told Carol the full extent of what they got up to, he also never told her how much he thought about it afterwards.

And then he just kind of...forgot about having feelings for men. Forgot that it was an option, really.

"Hey, Darryl?" Ron says, effectively pulling Darryl out of his self-doubt spiral.

"Hm? Yeah, sorry, what's up?"

"Can you pull over for a sec? Gotta take a leak."

Darryl obliges, watching Paeden barrel out of the car to stretch his legs, and while purposefully looking the complete opposite direction of Ron, he has a horrible, horrible thought.

Maybe. Just maybe. He hasn't loved Carol in a very, very long time.

_ Truly  _ loved. He bought her things, called her "babe" and "honey" to try and make her less angry at him, did his best to impress her while taking care of their son. But he thinks of Henry, how every time Henry laughs because of something he says he wants to bottle that moment and live in it, how sometimes, when he sleeps (and that purple  _ prick  _ isn't there) he dreams of a world he can't recognize except he feels safe, because Henry is there, guiding him through it and pointing out all the new and interesting rocks. The butterflies, the nerves, everything that came with loving Carol in high school, now long since faded and replaced with a dull ache, was now back with a vengeance.

Love shouldn’t be hard all the time, and Darryl knows that if he could love Henry, it wouldn’t be difficult at all.

Darryl glances back at Henry as the door slides open and Ron climbs in. Henry's fully asleep now, hand bent uncomfortably to support his head. He looks peaceful, undisturbed by the stresses of their new everyday life, of the horrors they've been through. And Darryl knows, in his heart of hearts, that he is going to have to deal with this. Because the words “love” and “Henry” just appeared in the same sentence in Darryl’s head, and there are a few blaring issues in the way.

Carol, the obvious one. He’s married, duh. So is Henry, which is the second issue. To a lovely woman that Darryl met once, in passing. The kids are the final issue—what would Grant’s reaction be? Did Lark and Sparrow like him? Darryl’s not trying to be a homewrecker.

But he’s getting ahead of himself. He doesn’t even know if Henry likes him, let alone if they were to start...canoodling, or whatever it could be called. All he knows is that he’s got a lot of soul searching to do on the way.

They stop for the night and set up camp on some edge of the forest, talking quietly amongst themselves as they ate food they caught (read: Henry picked some edible plants and Darryl caught a bird or two with Paeden while Ron and Glenn didn't help at all). As Darryl pops the trunk open for Glenn to start setting up camp back there for the night, he notices Henry still staring at the embers flickering halfheartedly, hands rubbing together nervously in his lap.

"You can handle this, I'll be right back," Darryl says to Glenn, and he's grateful the man doesn't question it.

Despite the nerves making his palms sweat, he places a hand on Henry's shoulder. "You alright, bud?"

Henry nods, but Darryl can tell he doesn't really mean it. "I'll be fine, yeah."

Darryl works his bottom lip between his teeth before clamoring down to sit next to Henry (with minimal grunting). "Wanna talk about it?"

"I miss home," Henry sighs, "Don't get me wrong, I'm glad to be spending time with all of you, but I just...wish it was under normal circumstances."

"Yeah." Darryl pauses, leans back on his hands and turns his head to look at the stars above them through the trees. "Although, I don't think my life is going to be normal at home anymore."

"How come?"

"Well, Darnell, for starters," Darryl scoffs, "I can't believe I didn't see that coming. He's so handsome, and young, and I don't know,  _ successful—" _

"You don't have to go comparing yourself to someone who stoops low enough to sleep with a married woman," Henry snaps, and Darryl looks over to see him looking into the embers, genuine anger on his face. "You're a good man, Darryl, and a handsome one at that, and you deserve so much better."

Darryl is speechless, for a moment, thankful the darkness hides the blush riding high on his cheeks.  _ You'd be so much better,  _ he thinks, but doesn't say it.

"You know what? I think I'm starting to believe it."

The silence reenters, interrupted now and again by the sounds of Glenn whisper-shouting for Ron to shut up because Paeden's sleeping. It feels weirdly domestic, like a slice of this newfound normalcy amidst all the chaos. Darryl quite likes it.

"How'd you meet Mercedes?" he finally says to break the silence, and Henry chuckles softly.

"It's a funny story, actually. I was a little bit of a bad boy in college…"

Darryl tries to listen. He really, honestly tries. But the way Henry speaks with such passion, a small smile on his face, hands moving along as he gets deeper into the story, his whole body conveying this  _ love  _ and  _ pride _ that he doesn't think he  _ ever  _ felt anything close to—Henry seems to love fully, with his entire being, and some deep-rooted part of Darryl wants to be the subject of that desire.

"...what about you? How'd you meet Carol?"

"Oh, I don't really remember. Sometime in middle school, we started dating quickly thereafter. I'm sure she stole my hat or something, y'know, that thing kids do when they have a crush?"

Henry looks mildly disappointed that there isn't more to the story. "Oh, alright. Middle school sweethearts, ain't that something."

Darryl grunts. "Y'know? I'm not really sure it is anymore."

Henry is an empathetic man, something that Darryl is a bit envious of. Being in touch with your emotions is something that Darryl never quite mastered, favoring hiding his tears behind sunglasses and pretending people don't know exactly what he's doing. Henry makes a soft, sad noise, and turns to face Darryl properly.

"Do  _ you  _ want to talk about it?"

"It's getting late, we should probably get to bed," Darryl tries, hopeful that he doesn't have to do this, but something inside him knows he rolled a six on his persuasion check, and Henry doesn't seem phased. Instead, the man relights the fire without too much of a thought, and looks back at the other dad expectantly.

Darryl sits up properly, crosses his legs to the best of his ability—square dancing doesn't help all that much with flexibility—and stares into the now-roaring fire, like he's searching for the answer to all of his questions. Is he loving Carol out of obligation, because that's all he knows? Has he missed all these opportunities to be happy because he wanted her to be happy? Is Grant so quiet because they're so loud? Oh, God, does he have to eat Grant's skin still? Darryl's throat works to find the words, stuck on the sob that is threatening to come out, and Henry waits, patiently. And the distance he feels when he tries to talk about his feelings with Carol feels like a trench, like the two of them are standing on opposite sides of the Grand Canyon (which, coincidentally, is what they did when they went to said canyon). 

"I've been thinking a lot about the conversation in Roqueport, how loving someone who is bad to you is hard, but loving your kids unconditionally is just what you have to do as a father," Darryl starts, slowly, like he's still figuring out the words as they spill from his lips, "And...your reaction, when I said that you love them because, 'cause that's what you  _ have _ to do, and you said you do it because that's what you want to do. Hell, even Paeden…"

Darryl scrubs a hand through his beard, gnawing at his bottom lip. "I think...I don't want to love Carol anymore." The sentence startles a laugh out of Darryl, a wave of something akin to relief washing through him. "I don't think I've wanted to for a really long time. And that terrifies me."

Silence creeps back, and the relief is now gone, fear back in its place. He's scared, scared of change, scared of sharing his feelings so open like this, scared that Henry will brush him off like Carol so often does. He must be hyperventilating a little, because there's a warm hand on Darryl's forearm, and Henry's still there,  _ closer _ , even, watching his face closely.

"Hey, it's okay, breathe with me," Henry murmurs, and Darryl does, calms himself down enough to finally make eye contact. Henry's eyes are shining with unshed tears, a gentle, sympathetic smile on his lips, the orange glow of the fire lighting up his face and making the shadows dance across. He looks beautiful. Darryl doesn't mention that bit.

"Thank you for sharing with me. As scary as this can be, I am so,  _ so  _ proud of you for talking about it. Change can be terrifying, and taking that leap into the unknown even worse, but if...if it means you'll come out on the other side happier? Well, it makes it all worth it in the end. You have to love yourself too, you know."

"Huh," Darryl huffs, brows furrowed, "I never thought of that."

"What, loving yourself?"

Darryl shrugs a shoulder. "Well it sounds silly when you say it out loud."

"Darryl Wilson," Henry all but announces, placing both hands on each of Darryl's shoulders, pushing him to face Henry head-on, "you are a wonderful man, a terrific dad, an excellent coach, and a handsome, caring man who takes no crap from no one. You don't have to lose weight, or go to CrossFit, or  _ change  _ for anyone else. If it makes  _ you  _ happy, codsarn it you  _ do it. _ "

If Darryl was succeeding at not crying before, all bets are off now. Almost like he rolled a natural one, he starts crying, tears falling from his eyes before he can do anything to hold them back. He's about to start apologizing, maybe look up at the sky and blink away the rest of the tears, but Henry is pulling him in for a hug, surprisingly strong arms around his neck, and Darryl goes easily. He presses his face into Henry's shoulder and cries, openly, for the first time in a long, long time.

As much as Darryl doesn't want to pull away from the idle backrub that Henry is giving him, he does, wiping at his eyes with a tired smile. "Thank you, Henry. I guess you are pretty dependable for a good cry."

Henry laughs quietly, glancing at the fire and making it go mostly out with a gentle gust of air. "Maybe I should go and talk to that Hardball woman and get a full-time job."

Darryl is the one to make the first move back into the van, standing up (with much more grunting this time) and extending an arm to Henry to help him up. Henry takes the outstretched hand and hoists himself up, and instead of immediately let go, he just smiles. "I'm here if you need to talk, okay? Here on out, just let me know."

Darryl should let go. He shouldn't enjoy how soft Henry's hand is in his own, and how it seems to slot in nicely, like it was meant to be there. He just nods dumbly, "I can't thank you enough."

Henry gives his hand a squeeze. "No need to thank me."

And he heads back to the van.

Darryl watches, for a moment. For a quiet, fantasy-cicada filled moment, Darryl feels...calm. Like the future doesn't hold all these scary changes, like maybe they  _ can  _ be good fathers and finally get their sons back, no matter how hard the road ahead may be. He watches Henry slide the back door open and get himself settled on the seat to go to sleep, and thinks that if he has to squash his feelings for the other dad for a while, he'd be okay with it. Because he has Henry as a close friend, and that's more than enough.

Darryl doesn't sleep much that night. Partly because they have a cycle to ensure they don't have another group dream with the purple hooded figure, but when Ron taps him out somewhere near two in the morning and he lays down on the makeshift bed in the trunk of the van, he stares out the back and racks his brain for a course of action.

Near 3:36 AM, it goes something like this:

  1. Find rest of kids, defeat hooded guy, and get out of the Forgotten Realm. Duh.
  2. Try to talk to Carol about Darnell, and how he thinks they should get a divorce.
    1. If she just yells, persist. You own the house, legally.
  3. Fight for Grant as hard as you can.
  4. Profit.

It seems simple enough, and it lets him get a few decent hours of sleep. His subconscious adds a complicated extra step between three and four.

3a. Pursue Henry (and Mercedes??). Don't let him go.

* * *

After a few hours of straight driving the next day, they hop out to stretch again, and somehow, Paeden suckers Darryl into sparring with him. The whole affair is a little bit odd, with Paeden only about stomach height on Darryl, the dad opts for getting on his knees and holding his hands out like boxing mitts (only after convincing Paeden that  _ no _ , the multitool that Glenn gave him is not being used). 

Darryl can’t help but miss Grant at a time like this—when the boy was eight and still interested in watching WWE with him, they’d wrestle each other constantly. Darryl would suplex Grant into a pile of pillows on the bed, and Grant would get him back by giving him the People’s Elbow when he’s least expecting it. When Paeden decides that he’s won and he’s ready to stop, Darryl is staring into space, thinking about the nasty bruise Grant gave him when that elbow dug hard into his stomach, and suddenly he’s staring at knees.

“Need help getting up?”

Right. Darryl looks up at Henry with an embarrassed smile, taking the hand extended to him and pulling himself up, making a face at the various creaking noises his knees make at the effort. “Sorry, just thinking about Grant, ‘s all.”

Henry folds his arms over his chest and turns to watch Paeden run after Glenn with the wine opener out, a fond smile on his face that Darryl can’t help but stare at. “How’d he get that name?”

“Hm? Oh! Yeah, I think we just liked the name, really. What about Lark and Sparrow?”

“We like birds.”

Darryl snorts and covers his mouth with his hand, and Henry turns to eye Darryl, but there’s no real passion in his frown. “Sorry, sorry, I just—” Darryl giggles, and there’s a look on Henry’s face that he can’t really decipher. “I guess I thought there was more to it than that.”

“Nnnope,” Henry drawls.

“You ever call them Spark and Larrow?”

Henry laughs, throws his head back with it, and Darryl’s heart swells. “Almost constantly.”

The domesticity creeps back in, the two of them standing there like, well, two proud fathers watching their kid run around. Darryl lets his mind wander for the time being, to a world where Lark and Sparrow chase Grant around the grass, where he doesn’t have to worry about grass stains or muddy shoes getting tracked into the house.

“I can practically hear you thinking,” Henry comments, and Darryl almost looks embarrassed, breathing a laugh and looking down at his feet to kick at the grass.

“Just wondering if our kids get along.”

“I sure hope so. That would make inviting you over for dinner a lot more complicated.”

Darryl looks back up at Henry, confused. Dinner? Since when—

“Oh come on,” Henry laughs, “you act like we’re just going to part ways once we get back.”

“I guess I assumed this was all circumstantial, y’know, we got shoved here.”

“While I can’t say for certain I would have ever become friends with any of you, I’m glad I did. I can’t speak for Ron and Glenn, they don’t seem all that interested in...well, anything, really. But I do hope we’d continue spending time together back on good ol’ Earth. Mercedes would  _ love  _ you.”

Darryl can’t help the grin that spreads across his face, and the giddy feeling in his chest. “I’m sure she’s lovely.”

Henry sighs happily. “She really is.”

“Can I ask you something? And, you don’t have to answer, obviously, and if I’m out of line you can just ditch me in the woods and I’d totally understand—”

“Darryl.”

“Okay, okay.” Darryl takes a deep breath. “You...mentioned, in passing, that you and Mercedes have a—an um, a pretty open relationship, and I was just curious…”

“Oh! Oh, of course, I should’ve explained,” Henry seems unphased, which relaxes Darryl a bit, “growing up on a commune I learned pretty early on that loving more than one person was sometimes an option for people, right? Sometimes it could be unhealthy, like when people think saving their relationship by sleeping with other people is a good idea. Oh dear, I’m rambling. Basically Mercedes and I are completely open to sharing ourselves with other people. Actually, Mercedes recently went on a date with a lovely young woman from two towns over. She was the sweetest.”

Now, Darryl isn’t sure if short-circuiting is something that he can even  _ do _ , but he learned recently that anything is possible, so maybe that’s exactly what happens. He gapes a little, his brain desperately trying to wrap around the idea that his silly little fantasy could be reality, just maybe, and the smartest thing that leaves his mouth is a quiet, almost squeaked out, “Oh. Neat.”

“Oh my gosh, I didn’t make you uncomfortable or anything did I?”

“No! No no, it’s just,” Darryl waves a hand absently, “new, that’s all. I’m still learning.”

Henry claps a hand on Darryl’s shoulder. “Aren’t we all.”

There’s a blaring on the horn that rips them from their moment, Ron sticking his head out of the passenger’s seat yelling at them to get a move on. He almost wishes he trusted someone else to drive the van so he could process all this new information without interruption, but instead he just drums on the steering wheel and tries not to let this new feeling of hope swallow him whole.

That feeling doesn't last too long, though, because soon his phone is ringing that Carol-specific ringtone and he has to pull over.

"I'm sorry I—I've got to, I'll be right back," he stammers as he opens the door, and half-jogs a decent distance away from the car before answering.

* * *

Henry does not like Carol. And he rarely dislikes anyone unless he has a good, healthy reason. He doesn't like the effect he has on Darryl, he doesn't like the little he can hear when she's on the phone, yelling at him, and if he's being completely honest, he could venture into using the h-word with her.

Henry is very, very close to hating Carol. And depending on the outcome of this phone call, he might change his mind on that.

Glenn notices Henry sit up straight and watch where Darryl heads into the woods, eyes never leaving him as the other dad paces back and forth. "Relax, man, Darryl can handle it."

Henry bristles a little, but Glenn is right. He wants to believe that Darryl is out there, showing her who's boss, confronting her about Darnell and all the terrible things she has put him through over the past twenty-something years of them being together. He hopes, for Darryl's sake, that this is the start of something healthier for him and his son. 

But there's a gnawing in his chest that he feels when someone tells his beautiful boys that they're bad kids, or when someone is rude to Mercedes, that makes him want to rip the phone from his hand and tell Carol exactly how he feels about her ruining his life. He knows that he should talk to Mercedes about what this means, but he doesn't want to go outside to hear their conversation, so he pulls out his phone and texts her.

_ Hi honey! I can't really speak right now, but we're still working on rescuing the boys and it's going alright. I have something important to tell you though. _

A few seconds pass, during which Henry casts a glance back at Darryl outside, who seems angry.

_ of course babe, i've called a couple of our wiccan friends and they agreed to help out, btw. whats up? _

Henry smiles down at his phone. Gosh, she's amazing.

_ I think I like Darryl, one of the other dads? He's really great, and normally I'd say you meet him before anything happens, but there's no telling how long it might be before we get out, and time is a little bit funky here. I know this hasn't happened on my end for a little while, so I wanted to make sure you were a-okay with it. _

Henry takes a deep breath and presses send. Thankfully, his phone stays on. Darryl looks like he's yelling, and despite his dentist's warning, Henry grinds his teeth to keep himself from reacting poorly. His phone buzzes.

_ omg that's so exciting!!! send a picture when you can, i want to make sure you have good taste ❤️ _

How did Henry get so gosh darn lucky?

_ I will! We're gonna keep fighting to get home, te amo! _

_ hurry back, making dinner isn't the same without you here mi vida 😘 _

Gosh, how is it only dinner time there? Henry smiles as he puts his phone away, and Glenn nudges him with his foot.

"Sendin' nudes?" Glenn wiggles his eyebrows, half-obscured by his sunglasses.

"Yes, Glenn, I'm sending nudes to my lovely wife, a foot away from a child and my friends."

Glenn presumably rolls his eyes, and Ron, who has never understood sarcasm, laughs and says, "Nice."

Henry sighs and watches Darryl again, who has stopped pacing and is no longer on the phone, just staring at the Nokia in his hand. He seems to take a deep breath before he slides the phone into his pocket, and heads back to the van. Henry wants Darryl to talk about this, knows he almost definitely needs to, but he doesn't want to pry—he wants to do this  _ right _ , let Darryl have his own terms for a change. So Henry tries to seem unbothered, but he might need to have a long and serious chat with his dentist when he comes home.

* * *

Instead of getting back behind the wheel, Darryl pulls open the door and looks back at Glenn.

"Would you mind taking over for a bit? Driving angry is not a good idea, and you've at least driven it before and not crashed."

Because Darryl, to put it lightly, is absolutely fuming, and if he gets behind the wheel, there would be no telling what would happen. Glenn gets up without questioning, Paeden scrambling over the seats to sit with him in the front, Ron seemingly not caring about the child now halfway in his lap. Darryl takes Glenn's seat, and glances at Henry, who give him a smile. As much as Darryl doesn't want to talk, wants to just bottle up this anger and use it on the next mother _ fucker _ who looks at him wrong, there's something in him that knows he should talk to Henry. Because he promised. Because it would make him feel better.

"She just called to yell at me about Grant," he sighs, scrubbing at his beard. "I insisted that we need to talk about our relationship when I get home. She didn't...love that, but at least she admitted she cheated."

"Oh, Darryl…"

"She wants a divorce," he says through gritted teeth, digging his nails hard into his palm, "which fine, okay, but the worst part? She didn't mention Grant once. All her yelling about leaving me, and she didn't even  _ consider _ Grant in the whole equation. I told her I was taking Grant and leaving, and she didn't...she didn't put up a fight. Just hung up."

Henry is speechless for a moment. Darryl takes a deep breath and shakes his hands out, willing some of the energy thrumming through his body to go to something moderately constructive. The thought that Carol can't even fight for their son makes him even wonder if she ever really loved him in the first place—

"You don't need someone like that in your life," Henry finally says, and when Darryl turns to look at him, he seems nearly as angry as he is, "you love Grant enough for, heck,  _ five  _ families, and if she can't see what a great kid he is and what a stellar father you are in favor of running away with some homewrecking nobody? Good riddance."

Darryl blinks, still surprised that Henry can even  _ get  _ angry, and he reaches over to rest a hand on his forearm without really thinking. "Thank you. I think it'll be a hell of a lot easier on Grant this way, at least. Once we find him. One problem at a time."

Henry pats Darryl's hand with his free one. "One at a time. I'll be right there with you when we get home."

Darryl's shoulders relax a little at the thought of having someone by his side through the storm after the storm—Grant will be there, of course, but relying on your son for emotional support during a divorce probably isn't the greatest fatherly move. He pulls his hand back and offers a smile. "I don't know how I'll ever repay you."

Henry waves a hand dismissively. "No need. I want to do this."

For a moment, Darryl remembers Henry saying that you love someone because you want to do it. Henry turns to look out the window at the passing sights, but Darryl watches him for a moment longer, the rage slowly dissipating. One good thing might come from this whole debacle after all.

* * *

They end up pulling into a small, quiet forest town for the night, Darryl wanting to give the van a quick break, and Ron insisting on finding a normal bed to sleep in for at least a night before they have to face God knows what in Meadowshade. "Town" is very liberal for what it actually is: a cluster of buildings, and a tavern with two floors for travelers to stop in on their way through. There are stables next to the tavern, and the path looks well-worn, like this is a typical stop for weary travelers like themselves.

And man, is Darryl glad to see a regular old bar. No sad patrons, no sludge-like beer, just a typical bar with a man playing some song that could theoretically be classified as country back home. Darryl feels well within his element.

"Do you think they have square dancing here?" Darryl asks Ron, and almost as if someone really,  _ really  _ wants to see Darryl square dance, the man behind the bar butts in.

"Square dancin' night was yesterday, but we'd make an exception for a pro!"

Darryl laughs and looks around at the space, and decides what the hell, when in Rome. Or, whatever this town is called.

"Darryl Wilson, hi," he sticks his hand out for a handshake, "Let's drink a little first."

A little ends up being a lot of beer, and shots of something that clears out Darryl's sinuses for a year, on the house. It turns out that the owner of the bar, Gnome Chomsky (no relation), gets really excited when someone knows square dancing as much as he does, and the rest of the dads—Paeden manages to find another kid to talk to, maybe someone from his UFC past, so they don't need to worry about him too much—end up getting roped into drinking as well.

While they're all still coughing from their latest shot, Gnome gestures for the band to start playing, and Darryl looks at the other dads excitedly.

"Do any of you know how?"

Glenn shoots out of his seat, surprising Darryl. He seemed more like a mosh pit man, really. "I've been ready for this day my whole life."

Ron hoists up his pants as he stands. "Nope, but I'll try my best and that's what matters."

Darryl quirks an eyebrow at Henry, who shakes his head. "Oh, I don't really dance—"

"Come  _ on, _ " Darryl insists, casting a glance over at the couples already forming on the dance floor, Gnome gesturing wildly to get into his group before it's too late.

"Maybe in a bit?"

Darryl pouts a little, the alcohol having finally hit his head, and makes it his personal mission to get Henry up and moving by the end of the night.

* * *

Henry is not 100% sure what is going on, but the music sure is catchy. The lead singer is calling out things and the dancers follow suit, there's a lot of whooping and shouting, people are clapping along—Henry's having a hard time processing it all, and the alcohol is definitely not helping him figure it out.

What he does know is this: Darryl is completely in his element, and he can't tear his eyes away.

He's laughing as he moves around with Glenn, the two of them being paired as a couple so that Gnome can help Ron figure out what he's doing. Glenn is keeping up but Darryl is  _ confident _ , guiding Glenn where to walk to when it's called, keeping Ron up on his feet, and the locals take to him quickly.

To Henry, it just kind of looks like walking with a purpose and spinning a bunch, but Darryl is having the time of his life, so he's happy. After everything that went down on the road here, Henry's heart feels light seeing Darryl let go like this—he's doing something he genuinely enjoys, for nobody except himself, which Henry thinks he desperately needed.

Two songs pass and even Paeden has gotten in on the action, following Darryl's explanations as the caller says words that Henry cannot even begin to try and understand. Henry's seen Darryl coach before, their kids were on the same soccer team after all, but he's never paid attention to it. Darryl cares a lot, one of his hands on Paeden's back as he explains the positions to him, and Paeden is bouncing with excitement. Henry wonders if his beautiful boys would listen to Darryl, if there's something about him that's commanding without even really trying that they might respect. That's a good test for when they get home.

Another song passes, and the crowd disperses to take a break, Gnome talking loudly and excitedly to Darryl as they walk back to the bar. Henry only realizes he's still staring at Darryl when the man catches his eye and flashes him a big grin, heat immediately rushing to his cheeks and making his face burn red. Curse his stupid sensitive skin. And Darryl's stupid handsome grin.

Darryl plops himself down on the stool next to Henry, leaning his elbows on the counter behind him and letting out a heavy sigh. Henry busies himself with ordering another beer from the bartender, a young woman who seems to dislike country music and her job as a whole, and Henry slides her an extra coin when he pays.

"So? What'd you think?"

Henry laughs softly. "I can't say that I'm any less confused about square dancing, but it seems fun."

Darryl pulls the cap off his head and wipes at his forehead with his arm, and Henry tries his absolute hardest not to stare. "D'you think you'll try it? I can walk you through, no problem."

Henry pretends to think for a moment. Because he really wants to make Darryl happy, even if that means making a complete and utter fool of himself on the dance floor. "Yeah, you know what? Yeah, sure, I trust you."

Darryl smiles and starts fanning himself with his cap, and without really thinking, Henry pulls the hat from his hand, plops it on his own head, and fills the room with a soft gust of air that everyone collectively sighs happily at.

When Darryl just looks at him, mouth slightly agape, Henry shrugs. "You'll make yourself more tired fanning yourself like that."

Darryl makes no move to reclaim the hat. It isn't until ten minutes later, when Darryl is holding one of Henry's hands teaching him the steps of the song that he just requested, Henry remembers that thing that kids do when they have a crush, how they tend to steal hats and wear them. Henry looks up from where he's staring at his feet to to watch Darryl's face, inches apart. Darryl stops mid-sentence, something about not worrying about stepping on him, to make eye contact, and gosh, if Glenn and Ron weren't right next to them, Henry would kiss him.

"Okay," Darryl says, clearing his throat, "let's do this."

On a scale of one to twenty, Henry performs at a twelve. He misses a few steps, but anyone he gets handed off to is eager to help him along, and he has an absolute blast. So much so that he considers getting the name of that place that Darryl takes lessons. Or going as his partner, that sounds nice too.

Henry is lankier than Darryl, so when they do end up together, Henry steps on Darryl a fair amount, the hand that should be gently resting on Darryl's waist fisted in his shirt so he doesn't topple them over. By the time the song ends and everyone applauds, Henry is apologizing between laughs for practically stomping on Darryl's foot.

"You did well," Darryl chuckles back, flicking the bill of the cap on Henry's head, "stop apologizing."

"Sor—" Darryl covers Henry's mouth with his hand with a grin, eyes twinkling with something mischievous, and Henry flushes under the attention.

"Get a room," Glenn comments, words slurred around the edges a bit, and Darryl moves to pull away, but Henry can't seem to pull his eyes away. Because, pardon his French, but  _ frick,  _ confidence looks good on Darryl.

"We should call it soon, speaking of rooms," Darryl says, and Gnome Chomsky is by Henry's side, effectively shaking him out of his Wilson-induced trance.

"I've got two rooms with nice big beds that just so happen to be available."

Now's his chance, they can get a room, talk about things—

"I'll room with my good buddy Darryl here," Ron so helpfully says, and Henry can't help but deflate a bit.

"I—yeah, sure Ron."

Henry doesn't  _ think  _ he's reading too much in the disappointment in Darryl's voice, but then again, he is pretty drunk, so maybe he is.

"Paeden can stay with us," Glenn offers, and Paeden, as if on cue, cheers "YEAH!" from the other side of the room.

"I'll start grabbing stuff from the van," Darryl says, and Henry decides that he has to act on this now,  _ right _ now.

"I'll help!" Henry probably says too quickly, but nobody calls him on it, and Darryl looks genuinely happy to hear it.

* * *

_ Okay, Wilson, go time. _

Darryl shakes the nerves out of his hands as he goes out the front of the tavern and towards the car, Henry close behind him. It may be the liquid confidence talking, but he feels like he can shoot his shot here. He's going to kiss Henry Oak properly, dammit.

As he grabs the remnants of the food out of the car and any belongings they might need, he thinks about how he wants to do it. He doesn't want to spring it on Henry, not again, but he doesn't know how to phrase the question. Should they talk? Does he just ask to kiss him?

Henry grabs one of his kids' bags that he's been using for his belongings out of the back, and Darryl takes a deep breath as he closes the door.

He rounds the car, and when he reaches Henry, the other man looks just as nervous as he feels, which is oddly comforting. Why is he nervous? Oh, God, is he going to reject Darryl before he even begins?

Darryl, admittedly, hasn't done this in quite some time. He doesn't know how to...to  _ court _ someone, so to speak, doesn't know if he even did anything to get Carol to like him in the first place. He feels like a teen again, hopelessly trying to find the words to say that would accurately describe how he feels. Except this time, he's not being forced to hold hands during a fire drill in middle school, and those feelings aren't a mix of excitement and dread. Darryl can picture himself loving Henry, with absolutely no doubt, and that alone is enough to scare him into silence.

"Can I kiss you?" he ends up blurting, and he's expecting Henry to react in the same, panicked way after Darryl kissed him after the flower incident. Henry could run back into the tavern, slam the door, and leave Darryl in the van to wallow in his thoughts.

Henry grins, and with a soft sigh, says, "Please."

It's not graceful. In a perfect world, Darryl wouldn't have to drop everything in his arms. But this isn't that world, so Darryl looks around for a moment before dropping everything in the dirt. Henry snorts and Darryl feels like his heart is going to explode.

Darryl brings his hands up to cup both of Henry's cheeks, and kisses him softly. It's not rushed, or panicked, or accidental. It is completely planned, and it is completely perfect. Henry holds Darryl's waist, still smiling a little against his lips, and leans into him completely. When Darryl pulls back, he drops one of his hands from Henry's face, and even in the dark he can tell that Henry's blushing.

He thinks he should say something, literally  _ anything _ about this, but Henry pulls him closer by the waist and kisses him again, Darryl making a surprised "Oh!" against his lips. 

Kissing Henry Oak under normal circumstances is everything Darryl imagined and then some. He tastes like the awful alcohol from the bar, but he's so  _ giving _ —Henry tilts his head, giving Darryl all of him, and Darryl takes it, sliding his hand down to his shoulder and pressing closer. There aren't words in the English (or Common) dictionary for Darryl to describe what he feels; hopeful, cared for,  _ loved,  _ even, and he wants to live in the moment. He goes out on a limb and nips at Henry's lip, who gasps, and he wants to keep hearing that, he wants to make Henry, he wants—Darryl doesn't even  _ know  _ what. But he wants Henry to teach him.

When air finally becomes an issue and they break apart, Darryl can't focus on anything but his heart thrumming in his ears. Henry opens his eyes and wets his lips, and Darryl doesn't want to say anything to disrupt the moment.

"We should, um, probably get back inside," Henry murmurs, and Darryl sighs a laugh, tipping his head forward to lean against Henry's forehead.

"Do you think we can convince Ron to switch?"

"Oh my, Darryl  _ Wilson _ ," Henry croons, "are you asking me into the bedroom?"

"Wh—no, I, uh—not if you don't—" Darryl sputters, and this time Henry gives him a kiss to shut him up that Darryl doesn't have an existential crisis over.

"I think if we play our cards right, Ron will already be asleep in Glenn's bed when we get in."

Darryl sucks in a breath, glancing between both of Henry's eyes. "I don't know what I'm doing."

Henry gives him a look that makes Darryl's stomach flip pleasantly. "We have plenty of time to figure it out."

As it turns out, Henry was exactly right. By the time they pick everything up and brush the dirt off, Gnome tosses Henry a key for the open room and says that the two with the kid went upstairs. Henry doesn't catch it, and when Darryl laughs, Henry glares back at him. Darryl is only mildly embarrassed by Gnome shouting "Have a fun night you two!" after them, so he guesses it's just karma.

During the time it takes to set everything down in the bedroom, two things happen simultaneously. Darryl remembers that Henry is married at the same time Henry remembers that Mercedes asked for a picture of Darryl. The two of them speak at the same time.

"Oh my goodness is Mercedes okay with this?"

"Mercedes asked me to send her a picture of you!"

Darryl furrows his brow. "Wait, what?"

"She wanted to make sure you were handsome!"

Henry says this like this is the most obvious thing in the world. The sky is blue, water is wet, and Mercedes wants to check that Henry has good taste in men.

"I, um, okay? Should I pose?"

For emphasis, Darryl puts one hand on his hip, one hand on the side of his head, and smiles awkwardly. Henry, with a barely hidden laugh, whips out his phone to take a picture.

"Wait, no! I wanna at least look  _ good." _

"You do look good." Henry turns to face away from Darryl, clearly texting Mercedes. Darryl decides the best course of action is trying to swat at the phone, which proves unsuccessful, and Henry makes a triumphant noise when it sends.

"She," Henry laughs a few moments later, now sitting on the edge of the bed looking down at his phone, "she said she approves, in not as many words."

Darryl takes that as permission to look over Henry's shoulder at the message in question. He isn't great at understanding emojis, but the string that Mercedes has sent in regards to him is borderline  _ indecent,  _ and Henry laughs at how flustered he is.

"She's a bit more forward than me."

"I'll say."

"So, um," Darryl asks, standing in the middle of the room awkwardly, unsure of what to do, how to conduct himself, where to put his hands.

Henry pats the space next to him on the bed, and Darryl goes, and Henry faces him, their knees bumping as he does so. Darryl finds himself looking closely at Henry's face; he notices little freckles around his nose, probably left from the sun, the beginnings of crows feet at the corners of his eyes, how his lips are a little pinker than usual thanks to Darryl. Henry must feel him staring, because he flushes a little under the attention, and grabs one of his hands in both of his own.

"I like you, a lot, Darryl. And I want this to work, whatever this might be, and could be. We can go as slow as we need, going into the future, because I know a lot is going to be happening."

Henry lets out a shaky breath, and Darryl slots their fingers together, giving his hand a squeeze.

"But you're not doing it alone. So whatever this turns out being, if you want to define it, if you don't, it's up to you, okay?"

Darryl has cried more than he wanted to in the past few days, but this is the first time it's because he's happy, and he watches a flash of panic cross Henry's face as he sniffles softly.

"No, no, I'm happy," he says quickly, "I really like you too. And I um...I want this, and you, but I don't know how to do this. At all. But the future is a lot more bearable if I have you to help me out."

A hand comes up to wipe a tear from Darryl's cheek and Darryl leans into it, basking in the warmth that is Henry Oak. "We'll learn together."

As they go to sleep in the dingy, slightly damp room, Henry's head pillowed on Darryl's chest, the man tracing absent shapes into his bare stomach, Darryl feels a couple things.

First, he feels cared for, something he hasn't felt in a very long time. He feels as though Henry cares about him without expecting anything in return, and Darryl wants to give him as much as possible. Second, he's excited for the future. Not only to rescue their sons and get back home, but what comes after. It'll be difficult on Grant, on himself. But he thinks that with Henry (and, by extension, Mercedes, and Lark and Sparrow) by his side, it may not be all that bad. Third, that that really tickles.

"That tickles."

Henry hums sleepily. "Tough."

Darryl grins up at the ceiling and slides a hand into the back of Henry's hair, making him grumble and shift impossibly closer. Yeah, Darryl thinks that maybe some good things came out of this tournament-gone-wrong after all.

**Author's Note:**

> this possessed my life for the past few days and im pretty proud of how she came out. i just like emotionally repressed characters figuring themselves out slowly but surely. i hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
